


Fly me to the Moon

by Rasqeu



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Crush at First Sight, Harlem, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Latino Character, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Swing Dancing, lindy hop, some songfic chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-10-14 09:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasqeu/pseuds/Rasqeu
Summary: Simon works in a factory, barely making enough money to keep himself going by the end of the month, but he can at least dance his troubles away when the night arrives.Baz is the heir to a very important company that seems to survive any economic crisis. Every single person from his surroundings expect a lot from him - be it family, business folks or bride aspirants. He has a lot, and although he is not ungrateful for it, he always felt like something was off.They probably wouldn't meet in normal circumstances, being essentially different in so many ways, but fate always finds its way, doesn't it?





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that:  
\- I will reference songs that didn't exist in the 1920s-1930s, but they fit this setting too nicely for me to miss out the oportunity;  
\- I am NOT very used to Lindy Hop (I love the dance, but I am very new to it), nor with Harlem. However, I did some minor research in order to make this story the most accurate possible :)  
\- I take a little long to update;  
\- Kudos and comments make me very happy and encouraged, so if you like this or have something to say, please do!  
\- Simon is latin-american in this fic!  
\- Since english is not my native tongue, some mistakes might have slipped from my grasp;  
\- I keep making some minor edits to my work sometimes;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My big thanks to Carol and Maria who helped me figured stuff out for this story even though they were very sleepy

Simon Snow thought his name was silly. Simon was an OK name, but Snow as a last name? An absolute lack of creativity. Other orphans had more interesting names than 'Snow', if he remembered correctly, and for someone with obvious latino features such as himself, it sounded lame. Either way, it was useless to keep rambling about it periodically, it was his name and that was all.

He jumped in a hurry inside the bus that would give him a ride to his workplace: a textile factory in the outskirts of the neighborhood. He was quite lucky to have a decent job in the middle of a minor, but harsh crisis in NYC -- although he wasn't exactly in high spirits, being obliged to do a boring and repetitive job all day. His body and muscles ached for some movement, and the only time he could have it was at night, so he patiently waited and began his work -- wandering around in thoughts had made him arrive at the factory sooner than he had thought.

After another long day of awfully dull work, Simon made his way back to the center of Harlem, but he did not complete his ride back to home -- he jumped off when the bus passed by Lenox Av, where jazz poured through all the leaks, windows and vent holes from countless establishments. It was, quite literally, music to his ears, and it relaxed him in more ways than he could express.

He walked inside one of those music-filled buildings and went to the side of the entrance, where he could leave his coat, which was clearly in his dying days, along with his small hat and his bag, that contained a very little amount of things besides his lunch box.

His clothing was slightly dirty and sweaty, and his suspenders weren't of the highest quality, but none of that mattered when he stepped into the dance floor. He asked people to dance with him and danced alone and even got asked to dance -- it didn't matter if he was solo, leader or follow, for what’s worth, he was having fun and washing away the tiredness and boredom of the day from him.

\-------------------------  


Baz didn't quite enjoy his name either -- he thought 'Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch' was too long and sounded way too foreign, but there was nothing he could do about it, especially since he had the weight of a legacy to carry over his shoulders. He kept looking at his father's name plate that read 'Chief Executive Officer' right after his last name, the force of the position sort of intimidating him. The plate was neatly placed on top of the perfectly organized table, and he sat carelessly on his father's fancy chair while waiting for his stepmother -- Daphne, one of the reasons for his absurdly long name -- to pick him up at his father's company. He was, theoretically, an employee in that big place, but in reality he just went through his father's documents and attended business meetings -- only to watch, of course. "A training for when your time to take over comes", his father always said.

Well, Baz wasn’t so sure if he actually wanted to take over the CEO position soon. It sure was nice and secure and he had interests and ideas for the improvement of the company, but he felt like something was missing, and he wanted to find it first before being eternally doomed to deal with business matters every hour of the week. His filled-with-doubt thoughts were then interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in” – Baz said, straightening his posture on his father’s chair. It was one of Daphne’s servants, and he briefly said his mother was waiting for him in the car.

He really didn’t like for them refer to Daphne as his mother, but he never said a thing about it, in order not to hurt the lady. She was going to take him to a ball, one of the many meetings the rich liked to attend and to boast in –- boring, if you ask him. The people in there were not particularly interested in anything but money and power, so the conversation topics were awful, not to mention the girls -- encouraged by their families, in avid search for a powerful groom for their daughters – never ever stopped nagging him.

He entered the car, greeted his stepmother and went over his foolproof plan: just staying for a couple hours, making acquaintances with some of his father’s business friends, dancing waltz with some girls to make them happy and leaving early, just like he always did.

Fortunately, his plan worked once more – he managed to leave and call a cab without being reprimanded by Daphne. He had the habit of observing the streets while inside an automobile, and for that reason he noticed that the driver made a route he wasn’t used to -- which kind of rose suspicion in Baz -- but he gave him the benefit of the doubt, after all, a different way didn’t necessarily mean danger. They passed through Harlem and an avenue that picked his interest: it was filled with and dancing establishments, and very jumpy music could be heard, even from inside the car. He signaled the driver to stop, on a whim, and got off of the car, curiosity getting the best of him. He began to reason and tried to justify why he had stopped his trip home in an unknown place to him: First, he still had plenty of time until his family needed him to be home; Second, he could afford any other taxi or tax he would have to pay, and third… Didn’t he feel like he was missing something? Well, this could be the place to find it, and maybe meet more interesting people than the ones he had to forge smiles with everyday.

With three reasons being more than enough for him, he stepped into a dance club in Lenox av. and tried to work out how that place functioned. He felt odd among all the people of color and diversity gathered and having fun, so he took off his hat and coat -- putting them in a place by the side of the entrance where he figured those sort of clothing were left --, in an attempt to mingle with the people in there. He ordered a drink and found himself a place in which he could take in all that was happening there. He mostly stood by the side of the dancing floor, watching people swing dance. They all seemed so happy -- and not at all ashamed to show it!-- it was very different from the posh gala meetings he was accustomed to. They all shone bright while kicking and moving, whether it wast solo or partner-dancing, but one of them outshined all the others in the room: A young lad with slightly dark skin and bronze curls leaded a damsel in intricate moves and turns and jumps that made Baz hypnotized. The speed of their dancing was terrific, and he followed them with his eyes for three or four more songs, feeling overwhelmed.

\-------------------------  


“You know, a fancy-looking fella has been staring at you for a while” - Penny looked at Simon suspiciously while speaking and doing some lock turns.

“Don’t look at me, I am not in debt with anyone anymore! You’re looking at a man who is perfectly up-to-date with all his bills” - He smiled and retorted to his friend while grabbing her shoulders to keep her spinning - “Why is it that it never crosses your mind that people might just wanna dance with me?” - He continued and searched for his possible-not-so-secret admirer. He locked eyes with a distinguishably good-looking guy, wearing some well-tailored clothing -- he had very white skin and dark hair pulled back, leaving a distinct widow’s peak. The guy’s dark eyes opened wide for a second when he realized Simon looked straight at him, but quickly looked away and maintained his composure.

“Yup, he is definitely interested” - Penny intervened in his friend’s gazing - “Will you ask him for a dance or you two ’re just going to stare at each other all night long?”.

“I don’t know… Should I?” - He asked her, never stopping to dance, but picking easier steps so they wouldn’t mess up while chatting.

“I don’t see why not” - She retorted - “But you should decide soon, this song’s about to end, and I think next one’s rhythm will be pretty slow”.

Simon grunted and decided not to think and just act. He wasn’t very good at thinking anyways -- that was Penny’s speciality -- so he knew that wearing out his thoughts would be useless. By the time the song ended, he walked towards the edge of the dance floor and approached the black-haired handsome.

“Wanna dance?” - He said, stretching out his hand.

\-------------------------  


Baz had to really keep his cool when the guy he was caught staring to started to approach him, but keeping a cool facade was something he was used to. His thoughts began to ramble -- maybe the bronze-curled guy misunderstood his curious look for an act of courting towards his girl and he would try to settle things with him aggressively -- but when the lad came closer, he just displayed a small smile and asked him if he wanted to dance. He actually thought it was weird -- two guys dancing together -- but in that place he had seen that there was no such segregation.

He smiled to the kind guy that had his hand waiting for him to hold it -- and oh, his face and arms were covered in moles, so many details that seemed to fight for his attention -- and simply said, keeping his dashing behavior - “I don’t know how to dance this”.

The young man in front of him seemed to wander in his thoughts for a moment, but kept his hand extended - “Do you wanna learn? I can teach you if you’d like”


	2. First Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more notes:  
\- I changed the color of Simon's eyes because it fits latin people best;  
\- Baz isn't so ruthless in this fic, sorry y'all. Lindy can be hard;  
\- Since english is not my native tongue, some mistakes might have slipped from my grasp;  
\- I keep making some minor edits to my work sometimes;  
\- Leader/Lead is the one who proposes the moves in Lindy Hop, while the Follower/Follow, well, he follows, and finishes the move.  
Follow goes, Leader goes, Promenade and Lindy Circle are some of the begginer's moves in Lindy. I think youtube has some videos that could give a better visual image of the scenes;

A thousand butterflies seemed to meddle with Baz's stomach, time passing slower than usual while he thought about whether or not to accept the boy's invitation. His reason played tricks with him, because all he could think of was how he'd like to touch his hand and have those chocolatey eyes directed at him longer. He would, however, embarrass himself in front of a large group of people should he accept the invitation...

He decided to just go with it, leaving his empty glass on a table nearby and finally taking the young man’s hand, who led him to the dance floor and slid his right hand to Baz’ waist, sending shivers down his spine -- certainly not a reaction he experienced frequently.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” - The guy said in laughter - “The name’s Simon, by the way”

“You may call me Baz” - He answered in a low voice.

“Nice to meet you, Baz” - Simon smiled - “Well, first thing you gotta do is put your left hand on my back, near my shoulder. See that, in this position, your arm is right on top of mine? - Baz nodded. - This way it’s easier for you to feel what my next move will be”

Was it asking too much for Simon to make a move on him? Baz' thoughts went unusually wild.

The song started while Simon explained the basics to Baz, but he didn’t bother about the rythm and kept teaching the other man, showing him the rock-step and the basic of 8, and telling him to mirror his movement and posture. Baz had trouble with the moves at first, but soon started to get the gist of it and do a decent basic move. It was very different from waltz, being a lot faster and jumpy -- and a lot more fun, if he was honest.

They were in the middle of the second song since they partnered, when Simon decided to make things a little harder for his follow and put some other moves along with the basics. He whispered to Baz not to worry about what he'd do and proceeded to make the 'leader goes' move, positioning himself in front of the other man.

The pair kept dancing for a couple more songs, Snow whispering the numbers of the tempo he proposed when the music was just too fast for a beginner. They got to try a bunch of the easier moves together, like the follow goes, leader goes and promenade. Simon seemed to move like the wind, making no effort at all, while Baz, on the other hand, had to keep looking at his feet to concentrate as much as he could. Fortunately for Simon, Baz didn't step on his foot, not once, but he missed his rhythm a couple of times, as expected of a novice. 

Simon knew the songs that were playing and had all the moves ready in his mind, even the more… challenging ones. By the end of another song, both the boys were sweaty and in need of a break, Simon had taught Baz the basics and they were already dancing non-stop, without breaks to learn new steps. To have a memorable ending move, the lead decided to be a little more defiant and signaled for the other man to do the eight-step move without rushing forward, and proceeded to lead Baz into a lindy circle for the last step.

With the characteristic long trumpet sound of the ending of jazz songs, Simon began the spin surrounding Baz in his arms, holding the young man's waist and hand tightly. The music stopped at the exact same time they did, and both young men kept standing in the same position, staring at each other, for quite a bit.

\-------------------------

Simon surprised Baz with that last move, for they hadn't practised it like they had for the other ones. Also because it felt like quite an… intimate one. He knew that dancing together meant practically nothing, for in his stepmother's parties he had the habit to nonchalantly dance with a couple ladies, but either way the proximity with his pair startled him, and he froze on the spot.  
His lead smiled while staring at him, breath a lot calmer than his own, and untangled their hands. Simon unbuttoned two buttons of Baz' shirt, making him wonder what kind of odd expression was taking over his face at that moment.

“You should rethink your choice of clothing next time” - He said. - “I wouldn’t recommend the fancy fabrics to be worn dancing”. - He finished, rearranging his shirt’s collar and moving away his hand.

“I-- I hadn’t planned on dancing tonight” - Baz said, in an attempt to maintain their interaction.- “I came here on a whim”.

“Oh yeah?” - Simon just continued - “And did it pay off? I mean, did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, it was quite nice!” - He rushed - “Thank you”

Simon nodded and smiled. “So, ‘re you planning on staying? Do you know the place?”

\-------------------------

The lead showed Baz to a table, and he was introduced to Penelope, the one Simon was dancing with before him. She looked a bit bored and jokingly complained that her friend made her wait for too long, but the three of them actually got along quite well, chatting and occasionally dancing and drinking. The feeling of being out of place was still there, but the overall mood was good and light, and it carried on for the rest of the night. When they said their goodbyes, both of the young men were determined to meet again, and Simon guaranteed he would teach him how to lead next time. 

As soon as Baz managed to catch a cab, Simon and Penelope went home. They seemed to live close enough to the avenue to walk home, because at that time there weren’t any buses passing anymore. While in the car, he reminisced the night, almost completely forgetting the part when he had to put up appearances in his stepmother’s ball. All he could think was how utterly happy he felt -- he could barely put his thoughts in order, but he tried to do so by making a mental list:

Favorite moments of the night, that prove it actually happened:

When Simon opened up his shirt’s buttons;.

1\. When Simon asked him to dance;  
2\. Actually being taught how to dance, by Simon;  
3\. When Simon caught him and circled around with him in his arms;  
4\. The amount of time that Simon locked eyes with him;  
5\. Being able to spend so long looking at Simon (God, he was beautiful… His skin was so different from his own, all spotted, and so was his hair, all golden and curly…  


Okay, when he actually thought about it, none of the items in the list proved the night actually happened… For all he knew, he could have just imagined everything, out of the unbearable need for something new in his life. He could wake up in the morning to find his suit without a single wrinkle in it, as always, and get to the conclusion that all of it was one summer’s night dream…  


He decided to leave the next day’s issues to worry about when the time came. For now, he would just enjoy the warm feeling in his chest that this night gave him -- Even the feeling of being shy and clumsy -- something that he wasn’t used to -- felt good, which was odd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated and encouraging! 
> 
> Happy holidays to y'all!


End file.
